Media Resources for Times of Need

Adobe stock photo

In my last post, I shared about my 6-year journey through depression. Through either personal experience or by walking with friends through their struggles, I've collected a list of Christian media to serve as resources during times of struggle. Feel free to add in the comments and share with others!

-Allison

Books

Grace for the Afflicted: A Clinical and Biblical Perspective on Mental Illness by Matthew Stanford, PhD

Blame It on the Brain? by Edward T Welch

Shame, Perfectionism & Belonging (which are all intertwined with anxiety & depression)

The Gifts of Imperfection by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Daring Greatly by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Rising Strong by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist

As Soon As I Fell by Kay Bruner

Abba's Child by Brennan Manning

Scary Close by Donald Miller

The Me I Want to Be by John Ortberg

Trauma

The Color of Grace by Bethany Haley Williams, PhD

Whole (blog) by Sarita Hartz (especially for missionaries)

Transition

Packing Light by Allison Versterfelt (Allison Fallon)

Rocky Reentry (blog for reentry)

Addiction

Breathing Under Water by Richard Rohr

Coming Clean by Seth Haines

General

Lord, Heal My Hurts Devotional by Kay Arthur

 

Music

Caveat: This is mostly from the beginning of my struggle with depression, so these are a bit out of date. Also, if you're experiencing depression please know some songs can make you sink further into hopelessness. If you start to feel this, skip to another song. :)

Shawn McDonald: Don't Give Up, Rise, Storms

Superchick: Crawl (Carry Me Through), Breathe, Hold, Stand in the Rain, Help Me Out God, Beauty from Pain, Suddenly

Gungor: Please Be My Strength

Ginny Owens: I Will Praise You

Matt Hammitt: All of Me, Let It Bring You Praise

Steffany Gretzinger: Out of Hiding

Tenth Avenue North: I Have This Hope

What's your favorite Christian media for difficult times? Got something to add? Drop it in a comment or email me!

 (*Note: links to books are affiliate links)

My Journey through Depression to Happiness

"Why you smiling, Miss?" I turned to see who was speaking. I was volunteering with high school students, and one of them looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Because I'm happy," I replied, my smile widening. As the words left my lips, I almost cried. I wanted to add, "Because it's been six years since I began struggling with depression, and I'm finally happy. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life! I'm happy to be volunteering here, and I'm happy to be alive."

Six years later, I'm happy to be alive.

When I first experienced depression, I had a lot of ideas about what the cure was. Most of them were wrong. Today, I still have a lot of ideas, and though now I'm better informed, I admit a lot of them are probably still wrong. We only know in part, and we see as in a mirror, dimly.

Six years later, I'm trashing my formulas for happiness and discarding the empty claims I know what "holistic healing" is. As I look back, here's what I notice.

Therapy counts.

Stubbornness tends to run in my family, and pride tends to run in me. This combination resulted in a three-year refusal to consider seeking professional help. A breakdown (or five) after a difficult summer in Cambodia led me to a counselor's office, where I finally found hope in the face of suicidal thoughts.

In therapy, I learned how to process emotions. I experienced grace. I met Jesus in a new way.

However, though therapy brought me a long way, I still floundered in waves of depression, especially with transitions to and from life overseas.

Observation: Therapy has literally been a life-saver. It brings perspective and fosters humility. It can facilitate major healing. It requires hard work mentally and emotionally. It is often the first step in breaking down stigma and pride. Though it's thought of as a practice reserved for "people with problems," therapy can benefit everyone. We all have problems, after all, whether we admit it or not! Perhaps the only difference between those who go to therapy and those who don't is the humility and courage to recognize and own our problems.

Bottom line: Therapy can do wonders for health! It is not a guaranteed cure for anything.

God can bring breakthrough.

At the beginning of the year, I found myself at a weekly gathering with friends from church. As the sound of piano keys and voices filled the house, I remembered how earlier in the day the Lord had nudged me to ask for prayer for depression. I didn't understand why. Over six years, I'd prayed and asked for prayer more times than I could count.

Yet in obedience, I approached Alexa, one of our leaders and now a dear friend, and tapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes met mine with a smile. Nervously, I explained I was experiencing depression and asked if she would pray for me.

"Yes," she replied, "I actually would love to because I've experienced depression myself."

Surprised and grateful, I closed my eyes as she prayed over me. She prayed for me to experience whatever breakthrough she had experienced.

The next morning, I woke up with hope surging in my chest. I felt 85% better! The Lord had brought breakthrough.

Observation: It's important to realize healing doesn't come as a result of actions or disciplines themselves. This is why "read your Bible" and "pray more" are dangerous solutions to give someone who is depressed (not to mention the propensity to come across as insensitive and judgmental). Even though these practices can connect us with God, these actions cannot heal us. Prayer, reading the Bible, Scripture memory, worship, nor repentance can heal us. Furthermore, God does not promise to heal us from depression or relieve our suffering, even if we do ask Him!

Bottom line: God can heal in an instant. His desire is for His children to come to Him with our burdens. He does not guarantee breakthrough, and spiritual disciplines are not cures.

Medication can be effective.

Shortly before asking Alexa to pray for me, I began taking antidepressants. It was somewhat of a last-ditch effort, as I'd always been in staunch opposition of medications. My reasons ranged from, "I don't want to be dependent on anything" to "They don't actually work" to "I'm weak if I take them."

When I finally visited a doctor, the first medication I tried actually made my depression worse. I'm thankful my therapist recognized and addressed this. When I switched to a different pill, I slowly began to notice positive effects: more energy, fewer suicidal thoughts, and an overall elevation in mood.

Since these effects occurred so closely to the prayer-sparked breakthrough, I wondered if the medications truly did anything or if it was simply the prayer. When I asked the Lord about it, I felt I should continue the meds. Later, a dose increase resulted in more positive effects. In fact, I went from feeling 85% better to 95% better!

Observation: In my head, finding a spiritual answer (prayer) to depression was more attractive because I thought a physiological source meant there was something wrong with me. Additionally, physiological depression can't be proven by a simple test or lab result, so there's ample room for questioning and criticism. This can be the hardest treatment choice for church-goers because it can be seen as a lack of faith.

In reality, taking medications shows incredible courage, resilience, and incredible humility to admit we are not in control of our minds. This lack of control is true for all people, but the facade is often forced down only in those of us with mental illness. Many times, people who take medications are meeting God in a new way, with humility and a recognition of how little we know about our brains and how little we control. If righteousness includes "right thinking" about God and how we relate to Him, then the humility involved in taking medications can bring about a form of righteousness.

Bottom line: Medications aren't for everyone, but the biological component to depression should not be dismissed. Medications can help. They are not a guaranteed cure.

Circumstances matter.

Situational depression is real and I probably experienced some with reentry, but for now I'll focus on general, ongoing life circumstances: the places we live, the jobs we hold, the social circumstances surrounding us.

When working as a nurse at the hospital, I experienced extreme stress. I felt pressure to be enough—perfect, even—and struggled to keep up with these expectations. The high-stakes and often-harsh environment was rough on my heart and my soul.

For a long time, I categorized my job as an unchangeable part of my life circumstances. I also mistakenly believed resigning from a career meant I was a failure, weak, and not good enough. I viewed quitting a job as a cop-out.

A few months ago, I made the choice to quit nursing in favor of health. After the initial shock of quitting the career I received all my training in, I walked into a season of great joy. I not only made the jump from feeling 95% better to 100%, but I'm happier now than I ever have been in my life! I didn't even know happiness this great existed. Wow, am I grateful!

Observation: Changing careers symbolized a surrendering of my will and sense of security, a courageous step of obedience and trust, and a commitment to what was best for me, even if it wasn't popular. I did (and still do) receive questioning when I tell people I willingly walked away from nursing, but this consequence is nothing compared to the unbelievable happiness it brings me every day.

Bottom line: A stressful circumstance is not to be underestimated. Unhealthy and stressful circumstances can have immense repercussions (like severe depression), but changing them is not a guaranteed cure.

Overall Lessons

Many possible solutions to depression exist, but none are guaranteed. I used to think if I altered just one of these factors enough, I would find happiness. I thought if I prayed enough, if I just kept going to counseling, or if I took the right pill at the right dosage for the right amount of time, I'd be better. The truth is I had to alter all four aspects of my life before I found happiness.

The only guarantee to come with each step I took toward health was a humble questioning of my biases and beliefs.

What do I really believe about depression?

How do I believe it relates to spirituality?

Do I assume others are weak, lazy, or fearful because they won't seek the same treatment I do?

Nurses, Spirituality, and Why We Should Pee Our Pants

It happened a thousand times at the hospital. I scurried from one room into another, where a patient lay on the bed and sighed loudly when I walked in.

"Well you're too late now," began the spiel. "I done peed in the bed."

Sometimes it came with an apology, sometimes with embarrassment. Often it came with anger and blame.

Our reply as nurses was consistent. "It's okay, we'll have you cleaned up in no time."

The rebuttal from our patients was also consistent. "If you would just let me get out of bed by myself...but they told me I had to push this call light and now it's too late."

"It's okay," we repeated. "It's no problem to clean you up. We'd rather do this than you fall on your way to the bathroom."

I can still picture my patients' faces, confused and concerned as I cleaned them up and changed the sheets. They probably often thought, "This is the worst thing that could have happened."

Adobe stock photo

Yet as nurses, we worked hard to prevent bad things from happening to our patients. We had specific, evidence-based practices helping us determine when patients were safe and healthy enough to get up on their own. The worst case scenario in the eyes of a patient (peeing their pants...or rather, their hospital gown) wasn't all that bad to us.

"Bad" was falling and breaking bones, coding and needing resuscitation, or developing complications and needing to be transferred emergently. It was a matter of perspective.

Most of the time, patients couldn't see their condition from the outside—they weren't equipped to assess their physical condition and the potential dangers of trekking to the bathroom alone in a hospital room. (And there are many! The slippery floor, the equipment, the cords, the IV pole and tubing...)

Patients cannot always see these dangers; they simply know their pride is wounded. These patients remind me of someone—someone who cannot always see the larger picture but who complains loudly when pride is wounded.

These patients remind me of myself.

Often, I have lacked the perspective to see potential dangers in the path to reach my goals. Often, I have only been concerned about my pride and my dignity—they seemed so important at the time! Often, I have treated God as though He is purposely neglecting what I deem my greatest needs.

I am the patient who's peed my pants. Over and over and over.

Like the patients who have yelled at their nurses, I have hurled accusations at the One who enters the room to clean up my sense of self-worth when I'm embarrassed and ashamed. Like a hospital patient, I cannot see past my the bed and the calamities He kept me from. I cannot see the tragedies that never happened. I only see the mess in my bed and my messed up pride.

Just as a nurse's heart is not to make patients pee in the bed but to protect them from greater harm, I'm starting to see God's heart is the same. His heart is not to hurt but to mend; His direction is not to limit or humiliate but to protect. He, like nurses, would rather our pride be wounded than our whole selves be broken.

Stock photo from Pixabay.com

When I look back, I can see this. Not getting my dream job brought me to a better opportunity. That difficult summer in Cambodia wounded my pride but led me to the Healer of my soul.

Over and over and over, I've peed my proverbial pants. I've experienced disappointment, prayed unanswered prayers, and lost what I thought was my dignity. Yet the Lord gently reminds me dignity is not determined by how I hold myself or view myself but is upheld when I see myself as I truly am: broken and needy and dependent, yet worthy of love and honor and respect because He has made me and calls me His.

Nursing has taught me many things, and today it teaches me to trust. It teaches me not to be the rebellious patient who thinks she knows best, but to be wise and humbly dignified as I thank God for letting me pee my pants and for always cleaning me up.

If it teaches us more about Christ and brings us closer to Him, I'd rather pee my pants any day, and I'd rather you pee yours too.

What Therapy Taught Me About Tithing

Therapy and tithing. What an odd combination of topics.

Counseling is not cheap. I learned this after I graduated college and was looking for a therapist. I was still riding the waves of the emotional hurricane of Cambodian hospital experiences as well as trying to fight off my own personal archenemy, depression.

Counseling is not cheap, but I am. (At the time I was as stingy as Scrooge, and the only difference was I’d had the excuse of being a college student for the previous four years so people didn’t judge me quite so hard.) But you see the equation—something had to give. Well, really, I had to give. If I wanted counseling, that is.

When I first started going to counseling, it was up for debate in my head how often I would go. I was hesitant about spending so much money on myself. It seemed…excessive. Exorbitant, even. However, after the first couple sessions, the decision was no longer a difficult one—because after counseling, I didn’t feel like I was drowning anymore. I felt a little hope rise up in my chest; the suicidal thoughts faded after counseling.

This, I decided, was worth any amount I could pay. If someone had told me I could pay to have the feelings of suicidality go away…it would have been a dream come true. For so many long days and miserable nights, I had wished I could buy freedom from depression—I would have emptied my bank account in a heartbeat!

And here, in a counselor’s office, I finally found that a little bit of freedom was indeed available. Suddenly, the price seemed so small a sum of money compared to the alternative torture of riding the fence of suicide day in and day out.

Photo via Pexels.com

It wasn’t a decision, really, because not being suicidal was so valuable to me.

The cost wasn’t even a question anymore because mental health had become so important to me. Every single time I spent money, I weighed the benefit and the cost, but I had never witnessed the scales tip so drastically in favor of the benefits before.

One day, as I was driving home from counseling, I began thinking about money and my mind wandered to tithing. I often found it hard to tithe, just as I found it difficult to write a check to my therapist those first couple of sessions. I cringed a little inside as I thought of the expenses on my budgeting spreadsheet adding up, and I hesitated to add tithing to the list.

Yet as I recognized this feeling—this hesitance to let go of money and a sense of control and security—I thought of the scales weighing benefit and cost, and I had one of those moments where I realized how good God was to me all over again.

God is so good to me. His love is unconditional, and His presence is constant. He gives me breath in my lungs and plants hope in my heart every morning. He doesn’t withhold His goodness if I withhold my tithe or if I rebel or for any reason at all. He is the Wonderful Counselor, and He is everpresent, Emmanuel.

He doesn’t require me to pay for His relationship; in fact, He paid the highest price—His Son’s very life—for me already. For me to spend not a session but eternity with Him. He gives us life itself, and He gives us Him self. 

Suddenly, tithing seems like nothing. How incredible that He asks for (not demands or requires, but requests) money.

Material money.

Of course He can have it. It’s His, anyway. And when I think of His love, His goodness, His companionship…all the money in the world cannot buy these things. Tithing transforms from a sacrifice to an honor as I realize again how grateful I am for Him, for a relationship with Him, for His love, for His presence, for His promises.

He who paid the highest price for us invites us to walk with Him each day. What a privilege it is to offer back to Him a few dollars in gratitude.